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UCSB  LIBRARV 
DOING  the  GRAND  CANYON 

By  John  T.  McCutcheon 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  CARTOONS  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

XN  describing  the  Grand  Canyon,  one  should 
go  into  a  course  of  literary  training  and 
gradually  work  up  to  it.  He  should  start 
off  on  the  Bay  of  Naples,  do  that  until  he 
has  perfected  it,  then  tackle  the  sunset  on  the 
domes  and  minarets  of  Stamboul  and  work  on 
that  until  he  can  do  it  in  bogie.  Then  sunrise 
on  Mount  Rigi,  the  Vale  of  Cashmir,  and  other 
star  attractions  of  nature.  Perhaps  by  this  method 
he  might  be  able  to  make  a  try  at  the  Canyon. 
The  great  climbers  do  not  begin  by  ascending  a 
Matterhorn  or  an  Aconcagua  the  first  thing.  They 
do  some  foothill  work  first  and  then  by  steadily 
increasing  the  magnitude  of  the  climb  finally  are 
able  to  negotiate  the  great  peaks.  Actors  go  through 
years  of  preparation  before  they  reach  their  goal — 
Hamlet  well  done.  Pianists  work  for  years  with 
their  ambitions  fastened  on  Liszt's  Rhapsodie  Hon- 
groise.  Violinists  work  up  to  Beethoven's  Con- 
certo— and  so  on.  When  a  writer  has  tackled  every- 
think  in  the  line  of  fancy  descriptive  writing,  he 
crowns  his  life  work  with  a  pen  picture  of  the 
Grand  Canyon — called  by  some :  "The  Greatest 
Show  on  Earth."  For  descriptions  of  the  Canyon, 
see  other  writers. 

The  casual  tourist  approaches  the  Canyon  with 
some  dread.  He  fears  that  he  will  be  disappointed. 
Surely  nothing  in  nature  can  equal  the  expectations 
of  one  who  has  read  what  great  writers  have 
written  about  this  wonderful  place.     He  also  fears 


COPYRIGHT  1909.  D.  APPLETON  St  CO. 
COPYRIGHT  1922.  FRED  HARVEY 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON     3 

that  if  he  is  disappointed,  it  may  probably  be  his 
own  fault  rather  than  the  Canyon's.  It  would  hurt 
his  pride  to  be  considered  as  lacking  in  capacity 
to  appreciate  the  great  beauties  of  nature,  and  so,  to 
play  safe,  he  resolves  to  do  full  justice  to  the  occasion 
if  it  costs  him  all  the  adjectives  at  his  command. 

It  isn't  much  trouble  to  reach  the  Grand  Canyon 
any  more.  A  Pullman  Sleeper  takes  you  up  to 
within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards,  and  you  are 
supposed  to  walk  the  rest  of  the  way.  As  the  time 
nears  when  you  must  meet  the  test  of  seeing  the 
Masterpiece  of  Nature,  you  experience  a  peculiar 
agitation  of  expectancy.  The  last  mile  of  railroad 
riding  gives  no  warning  of  what  lies  only  a  few 
rods  away.  When  the  train  stops  you  climb  a 
flight  that  leads  to  the  hotel  and  purposely  avoid 
glancing  over  in  the  direction  of  the  Canyon  for 
fear  of  getting  a  premature  view  which  would  take 
away  the  surprise  of  the  supreme  moment.  You 
determine  that  you  shall  get  all  the  thrill  that  is 
possible  in  one  sudden  compact  shock. 

You  register  leisurely  so  that  you  may  compose 
yourself  for  the  supreme  moment  when  you  are  to 
get  more  sightseeing  in  one  glance  than  is  possible 
any  place  else  in  the  world — a  hole  a  m,ile  deep  and 
thirteen  miles  wide,  filled  with  gigantic  mountain 
peaks  painted  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  and 
fashioned  in  such  beautiful  symmetry  as  to  make 
them  seem  like  great  masterpieces  of  architecture. 

The  Hotel  El  Tovar  stands  near  the  rim  of  the 
Canyon  with  a  level  stretch  of  a  hundred  feet  lying 
between  it  and  the  very  edge.  A  low  parapet  marks 
the  edge  and  a  number  of  benches  are  ranged  along 
for  the  silent  contemplation  of  the  view.  Beyond 
the  wall  there  is  nothing.  It  is  as  though  the 
wall  marked  the  end  of  the  world  and  the  begin- 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON     5 

ning  of  infinity.  It  is  not  until  the  sightseer  reaches 
the  edge  that  the  full  force  of  the  view  strikes  him 
with  a  shock  that  makes  him  gasp.  All  of  his  set 
speeches  which  he  has  prepared  are  forgotten  as 
he  stands  rooted  and  trembling  before  the  over- 
whelming spectacle,  afraid  to  utter  the  adjectives 
that  seem  such  meager  expressions  of  his  emotions. 

Silently  he  stands,  gaping  at  the  frightful  im- 
mensity of  the  view,  and  half  shrinking  from  the 
dreadful  depths  that  shoot  thousands  of  feet  di- 
rectly downward  before  him.  It  is  as  though  the 
world  had  suddenly  dropped  away,  leaving  one 
clinging  on  the  very  edge,  with  fascinated  eyes 
fixed  on  mountains  so  vast  and  so  unexpected  as 
to  seem  unreal.  The  sense  of  unreality  is  so  strong 
that  one  imagines  himself  standing  in  the  middle 
of  a  cyclorama  building  looking  at  a  painting  of 
highly  colored  mountains  and  mysterious  gorges, 
so  wonderfully  done  as  to  suggest  an  infinity  of 
space.  The  silence  aids  in  this  delusion,  and  one 
half  expects  to  go  down  some  steps  out  into  the 
noise  and  reality  of  a  street  again. 

When  you  speak  it  is  in  the  hushed  respectful 
tone  you  would  use  at  a  funeral.  Any  loud  exuber- 
ance of  speech  would  be  irreverent.  You  have  the 
same  awed  feeling,  multiplied  a  thousand  times, 
that  one  experiences  as  he  leans  over  the  tomb  of 
Napoleon  in  the  great  shadowy  dome  of  the  Hotel 
des  Invalides. 

Along  the  parapet  stand  silent  figures  entranced 
by  the  wonder  of  the  scene.  On  the  benches  sit 
other  figures,  all  spellbound  and  awed  into  silence 
by  the  brooding  wonder  that  lies  before  them.  It 
is  like  looking  into  another  world — different  from 
anything  you  have  ever  seen  before. 

When  I  first  saw  the  Canyon  a  snowstorm  was 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON     7 

raging  over  one  portion  of  it.  Blue-black  clouds 
were  boiling  out  of  the  gorges  and  giving  a  weird 
mystery  to  the  Canyon  that  was  anything  but 
earthly.  In  a  moment  brilliant  red  peaks  changed 
to  blue  as  the  shadow  of  the  storm  swept  over  them. 
Great  mountains  faded  in  the  mist  and  a  moment 
later  reappeared  like  domes  of  a  city  rising  from  the 
sea.  Off  in  another  part  of  the  Canyon  the  evening 
sun  was  shining  brilliantly  and  down  in  a  gorge 
a  furious  rain  storm  was  raging.  Stretched  before 
us  were  all  kinds  of  weather — snow,  rain,  and  sun- 
shine— reminding  one  of  the  old-fashioned  steel 
engravings  wherein  shafts  of  sunlight  streamed 
down  through  great  boiling  masses  of  silver-tipped 
clouds — except  that  instead  of  black  and  white, 
there  were  blue  and  dark  purple,  orange  and  rosy 
tint,  and  wreaths  of  fleecy  clouds  whirling  in  and 
out  of  the  silent  gorges. 

I  couldn't  help  thinking  of  what  the  old  Spanish 
explorers  thought  four  hundred  years  ago  when 
they  accidentally  stumbled,  without  a  moment's 
warrking,  on  a  scene  like  this.  What  a  shrugging 
of  shoulders  there  must  have  been ! 

As  we  sat  in  the  comfortable  hotel  rotunda  that 
evening,  surrounded  by  everything  that  goes  to 
make  life  pleasant  and  comfortable,  there  would 
come  moments  of  silence  as  though  each  one  was 
vainly  st<ruggling  to  realize  that  only  a  few  feet  away 
on  the  right  lay  that  awful  brooding  chasm,  as  deep 
as  the  ocean  and  as  profoundly  silent  as  the  stars. 

The  real  excitement  of  a  trip  to  the  Canyon  lies 
in  the  ride  down  one  of  the  trails  to  the  river,  a 
mile  below  the  rjm.  Most  people  go  down  by  the 
Bright  Angel  Trail,  which  leads  directly  down 
from  the  Hotel  El  Tovar,  and  on  which  the  round 
trip  may  be  done  in  about  eight  hours.    The  motive 


8 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON     9 

power  is  mule-back,  reenforced  by  a  small  switch 
which  seems  to  have  little  persuasive  effect,  but  im- 
parts a  sportylike  jauntjness  to  the  rider. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  caravan  assembles  in  full  view 
of  the  hotel,  much  to  the  dismay  of  portly  ladies  in 
divided  skirts  who  would  naturally  prefer  a  less 
ostentatious  start.  A  cowboy  guide  has  previously 
determined  the  numbei^  of  passengers  that  the 
mules  are  to  carry,  and  one  sturdy  animal  is  pro- 
vided for  each  passenger.  When  the  latter  marches 
bravely  out  of  the  hotel,  garbed  in  borrowed  or 
extemporized  riding  outfit  and  with  his  trusty 
camera  girded  about  his  shoulders,  the  cowboy 
asks  him  (or  her)  how  much  he  (or  she)  weighs, 
and  then  allots  a  mule  of  proportionate  strength.' 
Many  a  mule  has  been  deceived  in  the  weight  of 
ladies  of  great  atmospheric  displacement.  There  is 
much  laughter  and  some  nervousness  as  the  ad- 
venturers launch  themselves,  or  are  launched,  into 
the  saddles  and  the  cowboy  guide  starts  gallantly 
off,  followed  by  a  stately  and  very  deliberate  cara- 
van of  old  ladies,  young  ladies,  old  gentlemen, 
young  gentlemen,  and  occasionally  a  child.  There 
is  much  forced  gayety,  but  each  one  is  thinking 
about  perils  that  lie  ahead  and  reassuring  himself 
with  the  reflection  that  no  one  was  ever  lost  in 
this  daring  feat,  which  he  now  is  committed  to. 
The  presence  of  one  old  lady  will  have  a  wonder- 
ful effect  in  bracing  up  the  courage  of  the  whole 
party.  "If  she  can  do  it,  why,  surely  I  ought  to  be 
able  to."  A  few  hundred  yards  from  the  hotel  the 
caravan  turns  in  toward  the  Canyon,  and  the  trusty 
mules  with  their  precious  cargoes  begin  picking 
their  way  down  the  Bright  Angel  Trail. 

The  first  six  or  seven  hundred  feet  of  the  descent 
is  along  a  snow-covered  icy  trial  that  zigzags  down 


10  DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON  11 

at  a  dizzy  angle.  Nervous  passengers  shut  their 
eyes  and  trust  to  the  mule,  whom  they  hope  is  as 
anxious  to  get  home  safely  as  the  rider.  Of  course, 
when  the  mule  slips  there  are  anxious  moments 
in  which  the  rider  wonders  how  recently  the  mule 
was  shod,  but  the  latter  does  not  seem  to  be  at  all 
uneasy  about  the  matter.  He  picks  his  way  down- 
ward with  deliberate,  business-like  certainty.  He  is 
probably  thinking  about  something  to  eat.  A  short 
way  below  the  rim  occurs  the  first  adventure.  The 
caravan  is  halted  while  a  young  man  takes  a  photo- 
graph of  the  crowd.  When  you  return  in  the  eve- 
ning finished  copies  will  be  ready  for  you,  if  you 
wish  to  purchase  them.  Of  course  everybody  buys 
a  copy,  for  who  would  not  give  the  required  amount 
to  have  eternal  evidence  of  his  daring  Israel-Putnam- 
like dash  down  the  Grand  Canyon? 

The  photographer  is  very  crafty,  for  he  posts 
his  camera  in  a  position  overhead  that  makes  the 
trail  look  twice  as  steep  as  it  really  is.  And  that 
will  please  you,  for  in  after  years  when  you  tell 
your  friends  about  the  memorable  ride,  you  can 
show  them  how  steep  the  trail  was,  and  how  daring 
you  must  necessarily  have  been  to  plunge  down 
those  ice-bound  ledges.  Usually,  however,  the 
presence  in  the  photograph  of  some  peaceful  old 
lady  detracts  much  from  the  heroism  and  dare- 
devil character  of  your  ride. 

Of  course  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  danger  in 
going  down  the  Bright  Angel  Trail.  In  places  this 
path  clings  to  the  face  of  some  dizzy  precipice  and 
"winds  down  zigzag  ledges  that  make  the  rider  in- 
stinctively shrink  away  from  the  outer  edge.  If 
the  mule  should  slip,  all  would  be  over.  BUT — the 
mule  doesn't  slip,  consequently  there  is  no  real  dan- 
ger.   The  trail  is  never  as  narrow  or  as  steep  as  you 


IZ 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


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DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON  13 

will  describe  it  when  you  get  back  home.  If  it  were, 
no  living  animal  could  possibly  make  the  trip  safely. 

One  has  many  things  to  think  of  on  the  ride 
down.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  the  possibility 
of  the  mule  slipping.  That  is  a  thought  much 
patronized  by  the  riders.  Then  there  is  a  chance 
of  a  hundred-ton  rock  being  dislodged  some  place 
above  and  bouncing  on  your  head  as  it  passes  skip- 
pingly to  points  below.  Then  there  is  the  thought 
of  fainting,  or  of  vertigo,  and  other  pleasant  things 
to  occupy  the  time,  and  last,  but  not  least,  the  glad 
thought  that  no  one  has  ever  been  killed  or  seri- 
ously hurt  on  the  trail,  and  that  lots  of  elderly 
people  make  the  trip  without  minding  it. 

In  the  meantime  the  guide  is  answering  time- 
honored  questions,  such  as :  "Was  anyone  ever 
killed  on  this  trail  ?"  "How  often  do  you  shoe  your 
mules?"  "Where  do  we  have  lunch?"  "How  high 
is  that  cliff?"  "What  makes  the  stone  so  red?" 
"How  old  is  the  Canyon?"  "Who  discovered  it?" 
and  "Isn't  it  remarkable  how  much  those  mountains 
look  like  old  ruins  of  castles?" 

The  guide  cheerfully  gives  the  required  informa- 
tion, whether  he  knows  it  or  not.  It  doesn't  much 
matter,  for  the  questioner  has  asked  another  before 
getting  the  last  one  answered. 

Thirty-four  hundred  feet  below  the  rim  is  a  beau- 
tiful broad  plateau  on  which  is  situated  the  little 
collection  of  tent  cottages  called  the  Indian  Gar- 
dens. A  good  spring,  a  little  patch  of  cultivated 
garden  land,  and  a  sort  of  a  halfway  house  where 
cool  drinks  may  be  purchased,  constitute  the  set- 
tlement. Many  people  come  down  and  spend  the 
night  in  the  tents,  thereby  getting  an  experience 
which  enables  them  to  say  afterwards,  "When  I 
was  roughing  it  out  in  Arizona."  A  long  ride  across 


14 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


JZ 

H 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON  15 

the  plateau  leads  one  to  the  brink  of  the  granite 
gorge,  within  which  flows,  fifteen  hundred  feet 
below,  the  angry,  sullen  waters  of  the  Colorado 
River.  At  one  time  this  plateau  was  laid  out  in 
town  lots,  for  the  mining  prospectors  had  reported 
valuable  iron  pyrites,  and  they  thought  that  a  fine 
mining  camp  would  be  built  up.  But  this  discovery 
was  not  of  value,  and  the  dreams  of  a  Canyon 
metropolis  went  vanishing.  Nowadays  there  are 
only  a  few  mining  claims  in  the  Canyon,  most  of 
which  are  valueless,  but  are  held  in  the  hope  that  the 
railroad  company  will  buy  them  rather  than  have 
the  scenery  mussed  up  with  holes  and  dump  heaps. 

The  ride  down  to  the  river  from  the  Indian  Gar- 
dens is  thrilling,  especially  the  Devil's  Corkscrew. 
This  section  of  the  tra^il — a  six-hundred-foot  drop 
down  a  terrifying  zigzag  of  trail — is  not  recom- 
mended to  people  who  don't  like  mountain  climbing. 
The  path  is  so  steep  that  riding  is  unsafe,  and 
the  descent  and  ascent  must  be  made  on  foot. 

By  one  o'clock  you  eat  your  lunch  at  the  edge  of 
the  river,  with  minds  somewhat  clouded  by  the  reali- 
zation that  you  have  to  go  back  every  foot  of  that 
long  trip  you  have  come.  You  do  it,  however,  and 
at  five  o'clock  the  caravan  returns  like  triumphant 
explorers  to  the  hotel  at  the  top.  You  look  for  an 
easy  chair — soft  perferred — and  discuss  with  one 
another  your  various  heroisms  of  the  day. 

Sunset  is  a  widely  advertised  feature  of  the 
Grand  Canyon.  Every  promontory  that  juts  out 
over  the  chasm  has  its  group  of  sun  worshipers. 
Adjectives  roll  out  in  endless  volume  as  the  sun 
tints  the  clouds  and  peaks  the  most  wondrous  hues, 
and  the  profound  depths  of  the  gorges  seem  even 
more  profound  in  their  purple  shadows.  Every  time 
a  sightseer  says  something  complimentary,  a  new 


16 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON  17 

peak  blushes  a  rosy  red.  It  is  an  explosion  of  color, 
a  scrambled  rainbow,  a  thousand  square  miles  of 
riotous  beauty.  A  man  from  Indiana  who  gazed 
at  the  scene  in  silent  admiration  for  a  half  hour, 
shook  his  head  and  slowly  remarked:  "Well,  sir, 
it  does  seem  as  thought  the  Creator  did  it  just  to 
show  what  He  could  do  when  He  tried."  In  front 
of  the  hotel  the  parade  ground  along  the  parapet 
is  always  a  favorite  spot  for  those  who  never  tire 
of  drinking  in  the  new  emotions  that  come  with 
each  succeeding  moment.  For  the  Canyon  is  never 
the  same.    There  is  always  something  new  to  see. 

Gradually  night  closes  in,  and  the  scenery  lovers 
return,  exalted  and  tired,  to  the  hotel.  An  hour 
later  the  great  dining  room  is  full  of  busy  people, 
and  the  large  lady  who  looked  so  funny  in  her 
divided  skirts,  now  appears  in  a  bewitching  gown 
and  with  a  slight  impediment  in  her  walk. 

As  we  look  around  at  the  brilliant  room,  with  its 
diners  from  every  country  in  the  world,  it  is  hard 
to  realize  that  we  are  in  a  remote  desert  country 
and  that  within  one  hundred  miles  are  spots  never 
yet  explored  by  man,  as  well  as  scores  of  mountain 
peaks  never  yet  scaled  by  adventurous  climbers. 

After  dinner  there  is  the  Hopi  House  to  visit.  A 
native  dance  is  scheduled,  and  an  opportunity  is 
offered  to  those  who  wish  to  invest  in  Indian  relics 
and  works  of  art.  The  house  itself  is  built  in 
imitation  of  a  genuine  Arizona  Indian  village — 
entirely  of  mud  and  poles— and  full  of  gaily  colored 
rugs  of  geometric  Indian  designs. 

But  the  chief  ordeal  of  the  day  is  yet  to  come. 
When  you  go  back  to  the  hotel  to  smoke  a  final 
cigar  in  comfortable  ease,  you  will  observe  a  scene 
of  frenzied  activity.  Every  table  is  thronged  by 
busy  writers.    It  is  the  picture-post-card  hour,  and 


18  DOING  THE  GRAND  CANYON 

people  are  writing  cards  to  everybody  they  know. 
It  makes  you  very  ill  at  ease.  The  fever  is  hard 
to  resist,  and  you  feel  as  though  you  ought  to  be 
at  work  also.  After  vainly  fighting  against  it  for 
a  while,  you  give  up  and  join  the  picture-post-card 
gang.  You  buy  a  dozen  because  you  get  them 
cheaper  that  way,  and  then  write  to  your  six  best 
friends,  and  finally  finish  up  the  other  six  by  writ- 
ing to  the  people  who  will  wonder  whose  initials  are 
signed  to  the  cards. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  lounging  room  is  empty,  and 
you  go  away  to  dream  of  frightful  falls,  of  mules 
leaping  down  thousand-foot  cliffs,  and  of  rocks 
crashing  down  upon  you,  inflicting  lasting  injury. 
All  through  the  night  you  have  hairbreadth  escapes 
and  claw  your  bedclothes  in  impotent  frenzy.  You 
die  a  hundred  deaths,  but  in  spite  of  the  great  mor- 
tality you  are  ready  for  a  good  breakfast  in  the 
morning. 


The  Man  from  Indiana — 

about  whom  Mr.  McCutcheon  tells,  may  have 
been  right  as  to  why  the  Grand  Canyon  was 
made. 

A  STORY  OF  THE  GRAND  CANYON 

By  N.  H.  Darton,  U.  S.  Geological  Survey, 

tells  ho-w.  Written  in  non-technical  language 
and  profusely  illustrated  with  maps  and  photo- 
graphs, it  is  an  authoritative,  understandable 
account  of  the  rocks  and  origin  of  the  Canyon. 
Fifth  Edition.     60  Cents. 

POPULAR     ILLUSTRATED     BOOKS 
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THE  GREAT  SOUTHWEST— An  interesting  picture- 
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most  picturesque  part  of  America  as  seen  from  a 
car  window.     70th  Thousand.     $1.25. 

AMERICAN  INDIANS — An  accurate  account  of  the 
customs  and  everyday  life  of  the  "First  Families  of 
the  Southwest."  Written  in  popular  style,  with  32  full- 
page   illustrations  in  color.    Second  Large  Printing.    $1.25. 

CALIFORNIA— IN  COLOR— California  scenery  lends 
itself  naturally  to  color  reproduction  and  this  popular 
picture-book  of  sixty  pages  is  all  that  its  title  im- 
plies.    120th  Thousand.     60  Cents. 

Published  By 

FRED    HARVEY,    KANSAS    CITY,    MO. 

For  sale  on  Santa  Fe  trains  and  at  Fred  Harvey  News 
Stands   throughout   the   Southwest. 


OCSB  LIBRARY 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hllgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  tiie  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


Univen 

Sout 

Lib 


